The house was one of a short row built into the massive arches along the west face of the ruined Abbey Church.
“So Delborough’s taken refuge at Somersham.” Daniel looked at Roderick. “Why there?”
“Not Somersham the village, but Somersham Place. It’s the principal residence of the Duke of St. Ives-Devil Cynster.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Alex returned to join Daniel on the sofa. “Could St. Ives be Delborough’s contact? Is St. Ives in a position to bring us down?”
Shaking his head, Roderick dropped into an armchair facing the other two. “It’s a mystery why Delborough’s chosen to go there. St. Ives is eminently well-connected within the ton, very much haut ton, but he’s not a political heavyweight, at least not in foreign matters. Papa would simply shrug off any accusation St. Ives made, then bury it. I really don’t think we need to worry about St. Ives. Besides, Larkins believes Delborough hasn’t handed over the scroll-holder but has it still in his keeping, which suggests Somersham is merely a staging point-a safe house, perhaps-from which Delborough will make the last push to his ultimate destination.”
“Any guesses as to where that ‘ultimate destination’ is?” Alex asked. “I assume the other couriers will make for the same place.”
“I think we can count on that,” Roderick returned. “There has to be one person behind this-someone is the puppetmaster pulling all the strings. The big question is: who?”
Alex nodded. “Whoever they are, they are the person we need to worry about-to counter. And the safest and easiest way is by ensuring the original letter never makes it into their hands.”
The other two nodded in agreement.
“So what did Larkins report?” Daniel asked.
Roderick had made a detour to meet Larkins in Newmar ket. “His thief is inside the house, still undetected, still free to move. Unfortunately, the snow was particularly heavy in that part of the country. When Larkins spoke to the little beggar last night, he-the boy-was confident he could find the scroll-holder and bring it out to Larkins, but now with the snow so deep, even if he has filched the scroll-holder he’ll have to wait for the thaw to bring it out.”
“I assume Larkins was wise enough to arrange to meet this boy-thief at a distance?” Alex asked.
Lips curving, Roderick nodded. “He’s picked a place anyone can find-Ely Cathedral.”
“Oh, I do approve.” Alex smiled back. “Not so much appropriate as…contemptuous. Very much in keeping with the Black Cobra style.”
“Larkins thought you’d be pleased.”
“I am, but…I have to say, thus far Larkins isn’t living up to his usual efficiency.” Alex met Roderick’s eyes. “Delborough, after all, still lives, and we’re still waiting for his scroll-holder.”
Roderick shrugged. “You can hardly blame Larkins. If it hadn’t been for that damned redhead, we’d have done for Delborough in Southampton. And got the scroll-holder, too. As you’d predicted, after the attacks by the two cultists we put on board his ship at Capetown, the good colonel had fallen into the habit of assuming he only had knives to fear.”
“While it’s nice to be proved correct,” Alex dryly replied, “we sacrificed two good men, and we still have Delborough alive and running around Cambridgeshire with his scroll-holder.”
Alex never liked losing cultists.
Roderick sighed. “We’ve lost more than two, now.”
“What?” The sharp question came from both Alex and Daniel.
“That’s the rest of what Larkins had to report. If you recall, we’d ordered him to, if an opportunity presented, seize Delborough alive, and the scroll-holder, too. He was to exercise caution, and not go against a superior force, but if the chance was there, he was to take it. What looked like such a chance-and yes, it was engineered deliberately to look that way-occurred, and Larkins felt obliged to risk his force. He sent only eight out initially, but when the strength of the opposition became clear, he sent in the rest of the cultists he had with him-six more-trying to tip the scales.” Roderick grimaced. “They failed.”
“So…we lost another fourteen.” Alex’s eyes glittered. “And we can lay that at Delborough’s door.”
“Indeed.” Daniel looked at Roderick. “So Larkins is now alone?”
Roderick nodded. “I told him we couldn’t spare more men to him, not when all he’s doing is waiting for this boy-thief. As things stand at present, there’s nothing else he can do, not with the snow and Delborough staying put in the ducal mansion.”
“Any chance we can overrun said mansion?” Alex asked.
Roderick shook his head. “I wouldn’t advise attempting it. I vaguely recall that the Cynsters hold a family gathering there every Christmas. And the duke and his five cousins were all in the Guards, and all fought at Waterloo.”
“That must be how Delborough knows them,” Alex said. “He was in the Guards and fought at Waterloo, too.”
“As did the other four-the three other couriers and MacFarlane,” Daniel added.
“So we now know the connection between Cynster and Delborough and the others. Somersham Place might be a staging post for all of them, or some of them.” Alex grimaced. “Or only Delborough.”
They pondered that, then Alex continued, “This is turning out to be rather more involved than we expected. I was right in predicting the colonel would lead the charge home, and while it’s a pity we’ve missed our chance to capture, or even harm, him, it’s the original letter we really want…and I have to say, given his actions since landing, I’m increasingly inclined to think he’s carrying a copy.”
Roderick opened his mouth. Alex silenced him with an upraised hand and went on, “However, we can’t make that assumption safely, so we need the scroll-holder the colonel’s carrying. If we could seize him, too, I’m sure we could persuade him to tell us which of his friends has the real letter, and which port he’ll be coming through.”
Daniel shifted. “Delborough would be no easy nut to crack.”
“True.” Alex smiled coldly. “But I would love a chance to break him. Unfortunately, I agree our seizing him now seems remote-not unless we can lay our hands on the redheaded female, and perhaps not even then. There’s no telling how much she means to him, but regardless, I’m getting a very bad feeling about this puppetmaster.”
Roderick frowned. “How so?”
“It’s occurred to me that Delborough and his cohorts are not the sort to put their faith-and their lives and their mission-into the hands of another, not unless he commands their absolute respect.”
“And someone who commands such respect,” Daniel said, “is someone we should perhaps fear?”
“Not fear.” Alex dismissed the notion with contempt. “But we should treat this puppetmaster with due caution. This is starting to feel like a game-a chess match, almost. Even us moving here-we’re not on the box seat but are having to respond to…the puppetmaster’s plan. We need to think more carefully-we need to allow for an enemy with brains. Take Delborough’s actions, the reason I believe he’s a decoy. When you look at his going to London, it makes no sense-not unless his mission was to draw our fire. To make us send our men after him so he could engage and reduce their number. He’s clearing the field, and the other two decoys will do the same. However, because of my newfound respect for this puppetmaster, I agree we can’t assume, based on behavior, who is decoy and who is not. So until we find the original letter, we need to concentrate on that-the letter-rather than being drawn into unnecessary skirmishes. And, of course, always covering our tracks. Speaking of which.” Alex looked at Roderick. “I assume Larkins will kill his boy-thief once he has the scroll-holder? Not that I imagine an Indian boy being all that much of a threat, but we might as well be thorough.”
“Of course,” Roderick replied. “It’s only Larkins the boy has seen. Larkins knows whose head is in the noose should the boy-somehow-be believed.”
“Excellent. Now if only we knew where and to whom Delborough and his friends are ferrying the letter.” Alex looked at the other two. “If the decoys are trying to draw our fire, then I believe we can assume it’s someone with an estate in this area, someone powerful enough, well-connected enough politically to make a charge against Roderick stick. So who might that someone be?”
Roderick shrugged. “Norfolk is littered with the discreet mansions of the truly wealthy, the seriously powerful-houses many of those gentlemen use over winter, even when their principal estates are elsewhere. It could be anyone.”
“No,” Alex corrected, “it has to be someone with the clout to stand against our dear father.”
“They wouldn’t be making for Shrewton himself, would they?” Daniel looked at Roderick. “He winters on his estate outside Norwich, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but that hardly makes sense-he’s not the puppetmaster, and anyone could guess he’ll simply destroy the letter.” Roderick shook his head. “As Alex says, Delborough and his colleagues must be planning to get the letter into the hands of someone willing and able to do something with it, or what’s the point?”
“Indeed,” Alex said. “And sadly there are quite a few powerful men around here.”
December 16
Somersham Place, Cambridgeshire
Del sprawled in an armchair by Devil’s library fire, legs stretched before him, a glass of brandy in his hand, and laughed.
He’d laughed more today, been more genuinely amused than he had been in decades. A sad reflection on how lacking his life had been. A hint, a prod, as to what he wanted, even needed of his future, of his life yet to come.
Despite the snow, the day had been truly relaxing. There’d even been a glimmer of sunshine to lighten it, but then the clouds had closed in, the wind had picked up, and blizzard-like conditions had set in.
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